I saw just what it does. When it's too hard for you to face it. Still pushing you to make it. It's been no new news to me. . 'Cuz it's all been done before.
It's a beautiful day. But I don't see it that way. The sky's too bright. For my tired eyes to take. . And I wish I was home. I'm edgy cramped and cold.
It's 3 in the morning and I'm still not sleeping. 'Cause I'm finally running your race. The mountains you've been climbing seem like they have steepened.
Well, you checked me in (yeah, yeah). So you could check me out (yeah, yeah). Well, I feel alright (yeah, yeah). So you worked me up (yeah, yeah). . So you can work me out (yeah, yeah).
I felt a hand pull me deeper under. And it always makes me wonder was it you?. I met somebody else, the impression I fell under. It felt an awful lot like it was you.
You son of a bitch, you've got no friends. You've got no steady job, you've got no girlfriend. You say I'm cheap, you're just like me. The answer to the question, put to you by me.
Your game, your lovely game. Is like pain and suffering. Your fame, your newly found fame. Is like repeating history. . You now that keeping me around.
You try to move on but still you're perfecting failure. There's always something in your way. . Was it the guilt in you that pushed me to improve?. I know you've always had the choice to hear.
Thought of you tonight. Simple twists and turns. Incarcerated here. And handcuffed to your world. . Your innocence is cruel. Coquettish and arcane. But I need it all the same.
You keep calling it a crash and burn. Just waiting your turn. You might have time to speak. There barely was a lesson learned. 'Cause it will return no favors back to me.
I'm bitter. I'm twisted. James Joyce is fucking my sister. How can I remember 1690. I was born in 1965. I can see you. I can reach you. I won't be you.
Well, I was hoping I could crash the course. You made out of imagination. I feel it? Do you feel it?. Cause I don't wanna get by, get by, get by. . If pleasure is the ultimate weapon.
Is this real or is it a dream. I can't seem to tell the difference anymore. Caught between needings. And the need to be real. Your open arms gaping. Like a busted sore.
John Coultrane's got a great big train. Colour of the juice running through my veins. And if you leave me boo hoo hoo. I will turn this colour too. Blue blue blue blue bloody blue.
I can feel you breathing. And you're sticking to my skin. Someone shut the morning up. My conscience creeps back in. . I don't hear the words you say.
Judas Judas. I thought you were my friend. Judas Judas. you're just the same as them. I'm in hell and I'm alone. I'm in hell and I'm alone. I'm in hell and I'm alone.
*What We Got. . Have a taste of what we got. Have a taste a little taste. Have a taste of what we got. Have a taste you know it's really good.. . (Mark Hoy): verse 1.
Lights on:. . (Chimaroke Abauchi) verse 1:. . Lights on so it's time to go. On so bright that its time to leave. Shutting down. It ain't nothing to me.
*Go. . (Mark Hoy): verse 1. . The bomb drop. Ready to rock populace. Top dollar to watch. To dust goes metropolis. The bang bang. Like a spike to the vein.